


Pick Your Poison

by CountOfEight



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Denial, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Fireworks, Fluff, Frustration, M/M, Pining, Shenanigans, Slightly aged-up characters, Such Dorks, crowds, cuteness, general silliness, midnight lameness, new year's, the whole nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountOfEight/pseuds/CountOfEight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua wasn't entirely sure how Gon had persuaded him to agree to this, but wide eyes and absurdly charming smiles had definitely been involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Your Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this is a few days late. I wrote most of it while drunk at a New Year's party because inspiration is often inopportune like that, and couldn't decide how I felt about it when I woke up. I spent some time tweaking it, and now I still want to tweak it but also argh.  
>  ~~It's dumb but just take it~~.

Killua wasn't entirely sure how Gon had persuaded him to agree to this, but wide innocent eyes and absurdly charming smiles had definitely been involved.

New Year's had never been much of an event in his family. The completion of the earth in its annual trip around the sun meant very little to assassins outside of the chance of an an easy hit due to the target's intoxication. He knew it was meant to be a cause for celebration amongst the commonwealth, but he had never really had a chance to experience it for himself firsthand. At least, not until now.

So far he was not impressed.

Whale Island. It was Gon's world, had been all he'd ever known until just three years ago, and it seemed to Killua that he knew the name and personal information of every last of its inhabitants. They were all here, apparently, and Gon moved through them easily, all smiles and small-talk, asking about the fishing, the families, the shops and the storms. Everone knew him, and everyone loved him. Unsurprising, of course. The boy could charm a stone. But Killua found himself looking around the square full of smiling strangers and felt very much the outsider. They weren't impolite, just impersonal; he wasn't one of them, and there was no point in pretending that he was. This was a party, in  _their_ home and with  _their_ friends, and Killua just wasn't a part of any of that.

Which was fine. Sort of.

But he also got the feeling that everyone was silently sizing him up. Judging his worthiness to be spending so much time with _their_ Gon.

And that was putting him in a pretty sour mood.

To say that he was uncomfortable was inaccurate, of course. He didn't _get_ uncomfortable, the sort of life he had didn't really allow for it. But he might have been feeling a certain amount of... what? Nervous tension? Weird, skin-crawly awareness?

Fuck it, he was uncomfortable. He was out of place and it had never felt quite this _weird_ before. He kinda... cared that he didn't fit, while still remaining futilely determined not to, and had downed drink after drink and to hell with the fact that he was still a year away from sixteen. It wasn't like the bartender knew any different. Unfortunately, his body seemed to recognize alcohol as poison and stubbornly refused to allow him to get even the slightest bit... well, _anything_  really, much to his growing sense of abject frustration.

His instinct had been to stick to Gon like a small, silver burr, but that was just as mortifying in the end, since when he did the other boy only seemed to be able to talk about _him_ instead of all the other stuff he should be asking about, and with all those strange eyes on him that was about the last thing that Killua thought he could handle. So instead he had made some half-hearted excuses and positioned himself close to the makeshift bar, keeping one eye on his friend and using the other to glower intimidatingly at anyone who so much as _glanced_ at the pile of empty glasses he was accumulating. Mito, too, had been sucked into conversation and away from his area pretty early in the night, which was probably a blessing since he wasn't sure how she might react to this and didn't particularly care to find out. But once again that left him with the problem of being alone with his increasingly insistent thoughts.

He signaled to the hapless man pouring the drinks for another and ignored the pointed stare telling him that really, he'd had enough. He most certainly had not. Not by a long shot. He drained the glass proffered without even pausing to notice what it was, the acrid taste of the alcohol sliding almost unnoticed down his throat.

Over and over the question repeated itself in his mind; _Why am I even here?_

He knew the answer, of course. He was here because Gon had wanted him to be, but that didn't make him feel any less out of place. To be honest, with his age and complexion (pale where everyone else was tan, young where all the others were at least middle-aged) he stuck out like a sore thumb. Hell, he _felt_ like a sore thumb. He signaled for another. It was gone almost as soon as the glass touched the counter.

Still nothing. _Damn_.

He glared at the clock that had been set on the bar in an accusatory fashion that would have made a lesser object rethink its purpose in life. As it was, the little machine sat defiantly on the counter, its red numbers unblinking in the face of his irritation. Still another half an hour to go before midnight. He rubbed his face. Maybe he should just demand an entire bottle; he might at least stand a chance then.

He looked over to where Gon was chatting excitedly to a grizzled old fisherman, feeling a bit forgotten at this point but unable to fault his friend for it either. When an entire island demands your attention it was all too easy for one person to slip through the cracks. But really, he didn't know what Gon had been thinking. He would have been so much happier curled up with some snacks and maybe a comic back at Mito's place than packed into this tiny square full of people he didn't know or care about in the slightest. But Gon had wanted him to come, and when Gon wanted things Killua found himself inexplicably acquiescing; agreeing to whatever was asked, often in spite of himself. There was probably something to that, but Killua did not believe that now, or arguably ever, was the proper time for introspection on that subject, and signaled for another drink instead.

Which the bartender nervously but firmly refused to pour.

Killua quickly weighed his options, most of which involved violence, theft, or just generally kicking up some sort of ruckus, but settled instead on leveling a baleful glare at the unlucky fellow who was, thankfully, much easier to intimidate than the damn clock. The man quailed visibly, which was... kind of a relief, actually. A bit of solid ground because _that_ much was familiar. That much he understood.

A moment later the guy shoved a bottle across the the counter with a bit more force than necessary, muttering something about irresponsible strangers and stubbornly refused to make eye contact with him after, which suited Killua just fine.

He screwed off the cap and took a sip. The stuff tasted foul, but he could tell that it was potent so he took another. And another. Mentally he cursed his immunity, conveniently forgetting that it had saved his life more times than he could count. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen his father touch a drink in his life.

Now he knew why.

 _Wonderful_.

With that thought he downed the rest of the bottle, ignoring the horrified looks that the people around him were giving him and slammed it down on the counter. Most of them had been giving him a wide berth, (something to do with the pile of empty glasses and the sour twist of his mouth) but now they huddled back around the edges of the bar, seemingly unsure whether he was about to explode into a rage or simply fall down dead.

He managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes-- but only just. He supposed that he should just be glad that nobody was trying to talk to him. There was simply no accounting for what he might say in his present mood, but it would probably send those of lesser constitutions running for their homes and he got the feeling that Gon wouldn't be very happy about that.

Of course, it was just after that thought had flitted through his mind that a hand came to rest on his elbow, politely demanding his attention. He spun on his stool, sarcasm sitting hot on his tongue and ready to lay into the unfortunate who had _anything_ to say about the amount he had imbibed that evening...and stopped up short when he was met with large brown eyes and a familiar toothy grin that hadn't gotten any less endearing as his friend had grown. Hm. It seemed that he had lost track of Gon's movements somewhere in the midst of the moody haze of his frustration.

"Killua!" the other teen was seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere surrounding the bar because he was just standing there, beaming at him like the sun hadn't gone down hours ago because it was just naturally a part of his his stupid _face_ and... He caught sight of the empty glassware and his eyes grew wide. "Did you drink all of those?" he asked wonderingly and with just a touch of wistfulness because Killua had heard him wheedling Mito to let him try it this year. It had gone down in his books as an unprecedented account of someone telling Gon 'no' and _winning_.

That Mito wasn't actually a scary person. He knew scary people. He _was_ one.

That didn't change the fact that she was fucking  _terrifying_. 

Killua shrugged noncommittally, which was the closest he could come without breaking something to saying that yes, yes he had, and no, he was not drunk despite his most sincere desires to the contrary. Gon's eyes twinkled mischieviously. "Hey, do the thing."

In this particular instance, "the thing" was code for 'something awesome,' and before any of the watchers had time to blink, much less try to stop him, he had stood up on the barstool and leapt into the air, performing exactly three flips and little half-twist that brought him down about a hand's distance from his best friend's shoulder.

As tricks went, it was woefully unimpressive.

Everyone around him goggled. Gon slapped him a high-five.

Killua felt a warm, syrupy rush of satisfaction at that, because trust Gon to somehow make everything okay. Leave it to him to walk into a situation wound tighter than a fucking spring and make it right just by _touching_ it, or something. Like the universe itself couldn't stand to be out of balance when Gon goddamn Frecces smiled like  _that_.

He mentally filed those thoughts away in the dusty folder labeled 'To be sorted through Never.' 

Thankfully, there wasn't much time to worry about how alarmingly _full_ that folder had gotten lately because Gon had grabbed his arm, chirping that he had something to show him and began hauling him unceremoniously through the throng of bodies occupying the square. Killua risked a glance behind him in time to see the people around the bar all looking studiously elsewhere before the crowd closed around him, blocking both them and his mountain of glasses from view. He couldn't say he was disappointed.

Then the hand on his arm slipped down to catch at his fingers... and he forgot about alcohol and irritating simpletons for a moment. He stared at the hand tangled in his own, half guiding, half dragging as they threaded their way through the shifting masses. He dragged his eyes up to the back of his best friend's head before letting them fall back to their hands again.

 _Urk?_ said his brain intelligently and he immediately found himself wishing for another stiff drink because that uncomfortable introspective feeling was threatening inside of him again and he was very firmly Not Prepared to deal with All That.

He attempted to wriggle free, but Gon seemingly had no intention of letting go and any attempt to question his friend proved equally fruitless. His initial query of _Where the heck are we going_  had only caused Gon to color slightly and mumble something about tradition in a voice that Killua had to strain to hear over the general hubbub around them, and all further questions had been met with a vaguely embarrassed sort of silence.

Or maybe that was just him. 

It was hard to tell.

Gon kept compulsively checking a watch that Killua knew for a fact he'd never seen on his friend before that evening, and when he snuck a look at it himself he saw with some relief that there was a mere five minutes remaining until midnight. With any luck, everyone would disperse once that apparently all-important moment had passed and he would be free to start pretending that the majority of this evening had never happened at all.

 _Ha_ , he thought. Not likely.

But at least he was with Gon now, and he hoped that it would last.

They came to a halt around the back of the city hall building at the edge of the square. He shot his friend a questioning look, but Gon only let go of his hand and clambered up an untrustworthy looking service ladder, leaving Killua with the choice to either follow him up or be left standing there like some sort of idiot.

As if the choice to follow Gon was something he even had to think about anymore.

He did wait until Gon was all the way up, though. The thing looked as though it might disintegrate in a particularly strong gust of wind.

When he swung himself onto the roof he all he could see of Gon was a mop of spiky hair sticking up on the opposite side of the roof's crest. He padded lightly over it and found his friend sitting on the gentle slope of the tiles, gazing out over the colorful sea of the festivities beneath them. Killua looked out at the crowds that had so irritated him moments ago and realized that it was actually kinda... pretty. It was mayhem, of course, but the view was undeniably good. He flashed the other boy a smile, settling down next to him.

"Do you come up here every year?"

Gon looked up from studying his watch to grin widely at him. Two minutes, Killua happened to notice. "Yeah," he said, and how did it work that his smiles were never quite the same shade but were always so blindingly _genuine_... "I found it when I was seven. I snuck away from Mito in the crowd to explore and ended up here. She was pretty mad," and here the smile tinged a bit guilty without losing an ounce of its brightness. "But it was so great I had to come back the next year, and the next, and well..." he shrugged and then outright  _beamed_. "But I've never had a friend to bring up here before!"

His throat must have been a little raw from the alcohol because it suddenly didn't seem to be working quite right. "This is a cool tradition," he managed because he obviously needed to say _something_. "Thanks."

To his eternal surprise, Gon colored again. "Uh, actually... that's not...I mean, that is..." he stumbled helplessly, and Killua was just starting to wonder just what the hell was going on when all the lights in the square went out at once.

"It's starting!" Gon exclaimed, sounding a bit relieved. "Look!"

Killua looked.

Large glowing numbers were being projected on the building opposite them across the square, and they were counting down.

_57...56...54..._

"The last minute," Gon whispered almost reverently, and Killua shook his head in fond amusment. His friend's gaze was rapt on the numbers, watching them tick down towards nothingness. Towards an ending. Towards a beginning. It was exactly the kind of moment that Gon would find significance in and Killua couldn't help but be caught up a little in the other boy's quiet joy.

_39...38...37..._

A new year. He looked down at the upturned faces of the crowd; hushed, expectant. All of them waiting for the moment when those numbers would reach zero. It really meant so much to them.

_25...24...23..._

The dawning of a new day. In many ways no different than the dawning of any other. A few hours from now the sun would rise and take its usual path across the sky, the same as it had done all the days that came before, and would after. The only tangible difference would be the amount of people staying in bed and complaining of headaches. It was the change of a number, a tool for historians to keep track of events. In the day to day lives of individuals, it had little impact at all.

But...

"Ten," chanted the crowd, and Gon with them. "Nine, eight..."

Listening to them ( _seven_ ) and looking at the glow in his best friend's eyes ( _six_ ), he couldn't help but feel that there was something here, something that he was missing. ( _five, four_ ) Something he thought he might want to understand.

Gon elbowed him and he joined his voice with that of the crowd.

"Three, two, **one**..."

The clock hit zero.

A cheer went up, fireworks cracked through the sky, and then Gon's body collided with his, effectively tackling him and nearly knocking them both off the roof, and " _Wha_ \--" was all he had time to voice before the unfamiliar feeling of Gon's lips pressing against his own shocked him right back into silence again.

His mind did several backflips and then stopped dead, the world fading to a dull roar in the back of his awareness.

 _Oh_.

Eventually, the small engine that ran his brain kicked back to life enough to allow him to kiss Gon back, which he did with a fervor that surprised even himself; a host of thoughts and feelings clicking comfortably into place inside of him. It should have been weird, he knew. It should have been a big deal... and in some ways it _was_ , but in other ways, in all the ones that really mattered it was just _Gon_ , and nothing had ever felt more natural.

When Gon pulled away Killua knew that the stupid grin spreading over his friend's face was mirrored on his own.

"So that was what you meant, huh." He felt more at ease than he'd been all night. "Zero warning, of course."

Gon rubbed at the back of his head, a mixture of pleased embarrassment playing across his face. "Yeah...at midnight, that is, I always wanted to have someone to... yeah."

"Shut up, stupid," Killua grumbled around a smile, pulling his best friend down on top of him again.

A new year, huh?

Things were looking up. Oh yes they were.

 

 


End file.
